


An Aria for Two

by Chisotahn



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 15:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9189242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chisotahn/pseuds/Chisotahn
Summary: Yuuri took a deep breath. He did know this program by heart, but he’d never skated it in front of Victor before - not unless you counted the viral video, which Yuuri absolutely didn’t. That hadn’t been intended for a wider audience. But somehow, that video, this same routine, had brought Victor here…The twist in his stomach had been replaced with something fizzy that made his heart pound a little faster. Yuuri took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, then repeated it more loudly when it came out barely audible. “Okay, Victor.”(The evolution of a particular program mirrors the evolution of something even more important. Fluff, sweetness, and a little spice.)





	

It felt like it had been a long, long time since Yuuri had skated anything other than his competition programs.

Oh, he still practiced the jumps and other elements outside of going through the routines in full, and there were always variations in his warm-ups, but by and large everything other than his short program and free skate had been thoroughly pushed out of his memory. Perfecting the routines was paramount, and Yuuri had forgotten that he might have a reason to skate something else until shortly before the qualifiers.

Yuuri was lacing his skates again after their lunch break when he realized Victor had sidled up to him with an extremely mischievous expression, the sort of expression that made Yuuri instantly wary. “Yuuri, I’ve been such an awful coach. I’ve neglected one aspect of your training terribly,” Victor said, sitting down next to Yuri with a thump. “There’s only a few days left. I don’t know how we’ll recover.”

“... It’s not that bad, is it?” Yuuri asked, glancing up at Victor while trying to ignore the abrupt twist in his stomach. “I think the short program’s much better than it was last time, and the choreography for the free skate is pretty much finished, isn’t it?” Unless there was something lacking after all, something crucial that Yuuri himself hadn’t figured out yet? 

“No, no, no,” Victor replied, shaking his head. “Not those. I forgot about the exhibition.”

The knot in Yuuri’s stomach loosened instantly, and he suppressed the urge to sigh. “Victor, it doesn’t matter what I do for that.” Honestly, he hadn’t been planning to skate in the post-competition exhibitions at all. He had more than enough on his plate with his new programs, but Victor drew himself up at Yuuri’s lukewarm response, giving Yuuri a mock-offended look.

“Of course it matters!” Victor stood up, dragging Yuuri with him; Yuuri squawked at the sudden tug on his arm and staggered to his feet. “You _need_ to skate after competitions too,” Victor continued. “Work everything out before you come back to practice, no matter where you placed. Clear your head.” Victor released his grip on Yuuri’s arm and moved purposefully towards the rink, leaving Yuuri to follow in his wake. 

Yuuri sighed and followed him. “All right. Did you have something in mind?” he asked, though he knew Victor wouldn’t have even broached the subject unless he had some sort of Plan, especially given the playful gleam in Victor’s eyes. 

Victor was at the rink entrance now, and he gestured with a flourish for Yuuri to take to the ice. Yuuri quickly slipped the guards off his skates and stepped out onto the rink, giving Victor a questioning look. Victor wasn’t even wearing his skates right now, which was a little strange. “Ah, but you’re learning so much new choreography already, Yuuri. For this, you should stick to something you already know,” Victor said, grinning. 

Then Victor reached into his pocket, pulled out the remote for the rink’s sound system, and pressed _play_. Yuuri started as the familiar strains of _Stay Close to Me_ echoed across the ice, and he gave Victor an incredulous look. “But this is-”

Victor gave him a full-on pout. “You’re not skating, Yuuri.”

“You didn’t give me enough warning!” Yuuri protested, but he stroked out to center ice anyway as Victor reset the music. Yuuri took a deep breath. He did know this program by heart, but he’d never skated it in front of Victor before - not unless you counted the viral video, which Yuuri absolutely didn’t. That hadn’t been intended for a wider audience. But somehow, that video, this same routine, had brought Victor here… 

The twist in his stomach had been replaced with something fizzy that made his heart pound a little faster. Yuuri took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, then repeated it more loudly when it came out barely audible. “Okay, Victor.”

He hadn’t actually skated this routine to the music in months - his performance for Yuuko had been completely silent - so having the song play over the rink’s sound system was unexpectedly heady. At first, he felt hyperaware of Victor’s presence, nervousness stilting his gestures. Yuuri couldn’t skate the program exactly as Victor had. He’d always changed the quad flip to a triple and sometimes downgraded the quad Salchow as well. This time, he kept the triple flip but attempted the Salchow, bringing one hand down to the ice to steady himself on landing. Not fantastic, but not bad either, considering. As the familiar choreography unfolded, Yuuri began to relax. He let himself melt into the music, matching the notes with his own movements. 

Yuuri always remembered Victor when he skated this routine - how could he not, when he’d learned it from endlessly watching and rewatching videos of Victor himself performing this choreography? But that had been a distant, unattainable Victor, like admiring the light of a faraway star. It felt so different with Victor actually here, his presence marked by a grey smudge at the barrier. 

As the song came to an end and Yuuri swept himself into the final pose, all he could hear was the thundering of his own heartbeat - not unusual, given the level of exertion he’d just put himself through, but there was an additional element to it that he couldn’t explain. He took several deep, gasping breaths, then shifted, lowering his arms and shooting Victor a questioning look. 

Victor was smiling. “Yes. That will work nicely,” he said, and the approval in his voice made Yuuri’s cheeks warm. “I’ve wanted to see an encore performance of that for a while now,” Victor added as Yuuri skated towards the barrier.

“R-really?” Yuuri stammered, so off guard that he had to catch himself on the barrier. “It’s not - I can’t do the quad flip, and I’m still working on landing the Salchow reliably-” 

“That’s not what matters,” Victor assured him, eyes bright. “Not for this.”

It was true that the exhibition programs were purely for enjoyment, but somehow Victor’s words felt like they meant more than that. Yuuri looked away, vaguely embarrassed. 

“Now! You need a costume,” Victor continued briskly. “Perhaps something you already have for now - three days isn’t enough time to get something new, and you’ll drown in _my_ costume for this routine.” Victor reached out and idly brushed Yuuri’s bangs back, then grinned again. 

“How do you feel about blue?”

\------------------

Yuuri forgot all about the costume, too.

While he’d done well in the qualifiers, he knew he needed to refine both programs a great deal before the Cup of China if he wanted any chance of getting to the Grand Prix Final. The exhibition had been the absolute last thing on his mind. It wasn’t until the evening before their flight left that Victor reminded him.

“Yuuri~” Victor called down the hall. Yuuri was in his room packing, with Makkachin in attendance; both Yuuri and Makkachin looked up at the sound of Victor’s voice. “Yuuri, I have something else you need to pack!” 

“Oh? Nothing too bulky, I hope,” Yuuri replied, glancing down at his suitcase. “You don’t have room for it?”

“It’s _yours_ , Yuuri,” Victor insisted, pushing the door to Yuuri’s room all the way open and padding inside to sit on the edge of Yuuri’s bed. Sure enough, Victor was holding out a neat box, glossy white with crisp corners and something in Russian embossed on the lid. “Here, take it. No, don’t pack it yet! Open it!” 

Yuuri gave Victor a wry grin and shifted to sit cross-legged on the floor, the movement jostling Makkachin a little. The dog yawned and rested his chin on one of Yuuri’s knees, sniffing at the box. “Okay, okay. Let’s see.”

For a moment, the box’s contents didn’t make sense. The design was familiar, but something about it was wrong - the color, that was it - and then the pieces fell into place. Yuuri stared and lifted the cloth free of the box almost reverently. “Victor, this is…”

“Like I said, you’d drown in my costume,” Victor said sagely. “So I ordered one just for you. Now you don’t have to wear that ruffly disaster like you did at the qualifiers.”

Yuuri cringed. “It wasn’t a _disaster_ ,” he protested, but only feebly - his attention was on the costume in his hands. It was a perfect copy of Victor’s own costume he’d worn in his last season, when he’d skated _Stay Close to Me_ as his free program. The colors were just a bit different, with the bright pink shifted to a rich blue, and the golden accents rendered in silver instead. “It’s beautiful, Victor. Thank you.”

Victor just grinned at him. “You have to make sure it fits,” he said, sitting back and giving Yuuri an expectant look.

A moment later, Victor was out in the hall; a few seconds after, Makkachin was deposited into the hall as well, with a muffled “sorry, Makkachin!” from Yuuri.

“Hey! Don’t I get an apology?” Victor protested in vain to Yuuri’s very firmly closed door.

Eventually, Yuuri heard Victor let out a sigh, followed by the sounds of him sliding down to sit on the floor in front of Yuuri’s door. Makkachin’s tail thumped in response. Obviously, Victor wasn’t going to be dissuaded from this. And he was right, Yuuri did need to try it on. 

A few minutes passed before Yuuri quietly opened his door; Victor jerked upright so sharply that it was almost startling, though his look of anticipation faded into a pout when Yuuri only opened the door a few centimeters. “Yuuri…” 

Yuuri sighed, then smiled sheepishly. “Okay.” He released the door and let it swing open the rest of the way, feeling self-conscious but also weirdly pleased. Victor had chosen the colors well; the bright pink wouldn’t have worked with Yuuri’s coloring, but the soft glitter of the blue…

Victor let out a happy sigh. “Beautiful,” he said, holding Yuuri’s gaze with his own. Yuuri felt his cheeks warm once more, but this time he didn’t turn away from Victor. 

“Better than the others?”

“Not better. Different. It suits you,” Victor said, getting to his feet with a smile. “Thank you for indulging me.”

“Oh, ah - no, no problem. Thank you for this,” Yuuri stammered, offering Victor an automatic half-bow. Victor raised one eyebrow but reciprocated, the gesture an odd blend of Japanese politeness with the flourish of something performed on the ice. “I… I should finish packing.”

“Of course. Make sure you get enough rest, Yuuri.” Victor’s gaze softened again as he looked at Yuuri. “Did you want to keep Makkachin?”

“Ah, no, you take him. I know you don’t like saying goodbye to him when we go,” Yuuri said, reaching down to scratch Makkachin behind the ears and getting several tail thumps in response. 

Victor just nodded and moved to pat Makkachin as well, drawing the dog’s attention away from Yuuri. “ _Oyasumi_ , Yuuri.”

It wasn’t until the door was closed and Yuuri was changing out of the costume that he realized Victor had bid him goodnight in Japanese. 

\------------------

The space between them felt hazy, liminal. Victor’s presence was a warm comfort that both clarified and confused. 

Victor had kissed him.

Originally there had just been the one, an exuberant gesture that had sent Yuuri toppling back onto the ice at the Cup of China, but shortly thereafter there had been more. These kisses had been hesitant at first, testing, but rapidly increasing in number as Yuuri realized he quite enjoyed both being kissed by Victor and seeing the expression on Victor’s face when Yuuri kissed back. Yuuri had lost count of the kisses by now, a fact that awed him if he thought about it too much.

Awed him, and scared him a little.

But all the kisses in the world couldn’t stop the Rostelcom Cup’s inexorable approach, and prolonging the amount of time that Victor would be around _to_ kiss was Yuuri’s highest priority. He trained tirelessly, on and off the ice, racking up late nights at Minako’s studio after spending full days at Ice Castle. Despite the strain of it, it felt good, like he was giving everything he had for Victor’s sake. It felt right. 

But one afternoon, Yuuri was heading for the ice after a quick break and found Victor barring the entrance to the rink. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Victor said, his voice as stern as Yuuri had ever heard it. “If you injure yourself, then what? Sit down, Yuuri.”

Startled, Yuuri backed up to the nearest bench and sat down. Victor nodded. “Good. Stay there for now.” Victor bent down and came up with his own skates, the blades gleaming gold. A moment later Victor was next to Yuuri on the bench, lacing his skates up with practiced ease. 

“Victor?”

“Sometimes you learn by moving. Sometimes you watch.” Victor leaned over and brushed Yuuri’s bangs back before dropping a kiss on Yuuri’s forehead. “So watch.” Victor stood up and made his way to the rink entrance before removing his skate guards and stepping onto the ice; as if compelled, Yuuri rose and moved to stand at the barrier, earning a sharp glance from Victor. “ _Watch_ ,” Victor insisted.

“I am,” Yuuri assured him, and Victor gave him a long look before he was satisfied that Yuuri wasn’t going to make a break for the ice. With a sigh, Victor shook back his own hair, then stroked out to the center of the rink before turning to lock eyes with Yuuri again. 

“Watch, Yuuri.”

And then Victor was moving, and Yuuri’s heart was in his throat. There wasn’t any music, nor any elaborate costume, but Victor was skating _Stay Close to Me_ and Yuuri could hear every note. His hands tightened on the barrier and he leaned forward as if straining to be as close to Victor as possible without straying onto the ice. 

It was a routine Yuuri had seen so many times before, skated himself many times now, but there was something new about it now. Victor was making eye contact with him directly, far more than the program’s choreography called for - flashes of sharp blue-green between the jumps, Victor’s gaze finding him unerringly no matter how complex the spin he’d just executed. Everything else was perfect, making it clear that this change was no accident. 

Seeing Victor like this, skating this routine in just his track pants and t-shirt, no glitz or glamour other than what Victor’s own movements provided, the only sound the swish and crack of his skates on the ice… was this what Victor had felt like, watching Yuuri skate this program? The thought made Yuuri’s heart beat faster, as if he were the one exerting himself on the ice instead of Victor. It felt somehow unbearably intimate, and as Victor moved into the final spin Yuuri swore Victor was smiling at him, the expression somehow tender and knowing at the same time. 

Yuuri was at the rink entrance in a few steps, fumbling off his skate guards clumsily; even so, Victor found him as he struck the final pose. This, too, had been modified: one of Victor’s hands was outstretched, reaching for Yuuri. Yuuri answered the unspoken call by launching himself onto the ice, skating to Victor as quickly as he could manage. He all but crashed into Victor, wrapping him up in a tight hug, feeling the tremble of emotion and exertion in the other man’s body. 

They stood like that for a moment, both breathing hard.

“Did you see?” Victor asked, quietly, reaching to brush Yuuri’s cheek. 

“I did,” Yuuri said, and kissed him.

\------------------

Their kisses changed after Rostelcom. Everything changed. 

They curled against each other on the train back to Hasetsu, their fingers entwined, with Makkachin dozing atop their feet. When they arrived home, Yuuri didn’t make it even five minutes alone in his room before he gave up and headed through the dark halls to Victor’s room, and when he knocked he heard Victor’s relieved sigh through the door. 

“Never again,” Victor had murmured against the back of his neck that night, then slid into a soft murmur of Russian that Yuuri couldn’t understand, but in a tone so tender that Yuuri nearly teared up. 

They lingered on the edge of the ice, too, idly holding hands as they talked, and skating away to begin a warm-up or a run through of a routine became an act of will, with Victor holding onto Yuuri’s fingertips until the last possible second. 

So really, Victor’s new idea shouldn’t have been a surprise - it was obvious, in retrospect. Everything between them had led to it as naturally as breathing, but Yuuri still stared at Victor as he laid out the changes to the exhibition routine.

No, not _the_ exhibition routine. _Their_ exhibition routine.

“Pairs skating? I’ve never… I mean, I know the basics, but…” Yuuri blinked. 

“There’s another arrangement of the song,” Victor continued, breathless with excitement for his new Plan. “A duet. I thought we could use that. Keep the choreography mostly the same, but add in some lifts, maybe-”

“You’d better do that. I don’t think I could lift you,” Yuuri said, then chuckled in disbelief. “You’re serious.”

“Of course,” Victor said, looking wounded, and Yuuri was worried for a moment until he caught the mischievous gleam in Victor’s eyes. “Here, let me-”

And then Victor’s hands were on Yuuri’s hips, his grip strong and sure, and Yuuri gasped as Victor suddenly lifted him into the air. They weren’t on the ice, just in the locker room, which was probably a good thing given how limp Yuuri went at Victor’s touch. 

When Victor lowered him down, they were both a bit red. “Ah. Well. We’ll have to work on that,” Victor said. Then, more quietly. “Do you want to?”

Yuuri had only heard that vulnerable tone out of Victor once before. He turned immediately and wrapped his arms around Victor, and Victor sighed against his hair. “Yes. Yes, I want to,” Yuuri murmured. “I don’t… I don’t know much. But I want to learn. With you.”

“Thank you,” Victor breathed, then grinned and shifted so he could gently draw Yuuri’s chin up with one hand. “But the competition programs come first, of course,” he added, as if reminding himself, and kissed the tip of Yuuri’s nose. 

“Oh, yes, absolutely,” Yuuri confirmed, leaning forward to kiss Victor back properly, long and sweet like a promise that hung between them even after the kiss ended. “I’ll work hard to make sure we have plenty of practice time,” he added, once he could breathe again.

“Make sure you even up that quadruple flip,” Victor said, smiling impishly as he brought one hand up to rest on the small of Yuuri’s back. “I’m not going to let you get away with a triple if I’m out there with you, understand?”

Yuuri grinned back, feeling no anxiety at the proclamation for once - just a rising, heady haze of joy. It was akin to Victor calling Yuuri his equal, challenging him to rise up to that level in a way even more potent than the inclusion of the quad flip in his free skate. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” Victor rewarded him with another kiss, only to produce a startled, pleased sound as Yuuri deliberately deepened it, shifting to lean more heavily against Victor. “Ah - none of that, we still have the afternoon to practice… mmm, Yuuri...” 

Well, they were supposed to work on the Eros routine. And, in a way, they did. 

\------------------

The roar of the crowd felt far away, muted, like the distant echo of Hasetsu’s waves. 

Yuuri reached out, and Victor took his hand, their rings glinting in the spotlight as they touched - and then they were off, stroking backwards together before Victor’s hands were at Yuuri’s waist, lifting him up, strong and sure. 

The dip, then, and a soft, swift brush of lips before moving to the next element; they hadn’t scripted a cheek caress, but Yuuri did so anyway and was rewarded by Victor melting into the touch, following the line of Yuuri’s movements with his bright blue gaze. Another lift, still steady. In theory there were people watching them, but none of them mattered. 

This was _theirs_.

They moved in unison now, matching each other step for step, stroke for stroke. Yuuri took lead, holding Victor before guiding him into the next sequence, every sweep of skate against ice sweet and easy. Despite the chill of the rink, Victor’s hand felt so warm in his. 

And then, too soon, it was over, and the cheers washed over them as the stood together, center ice, hands raised, fingers entwined. Victor looked almost startled at the sudden realization of the crowd’s presence, and Yuuri laughed aloud, lowering their hands and gently tugging Victor towards the exit. Yurio was up next, waiting in the kiss-and-cry area looking like he didn’t know how to feel. 

As Victor stepped off the ice, Yurio seemed to make up his mind. “Hey, old man! Are you ready to see some _real_ ice skating?” Victor just grinned at him, and Yurio huffed before giving Yuuri a sharp nod and skating out to the sound of raucous cheering.

As Yurio’s exhibition music kicked up, though, a gentle touch drew Yuuri’s attention back to Victor. “Nobody’s watching now,” Victor said quietly, and pulled Yuuri against him, kissing him firmly, all heat and tenderness that nicely erased all awareness of their surroundings. Somewhere, Yurio was skating, but right here, right now, Victor was the only thing that mattered. 

“I love you, my Yuuri,” Victor murmured against his lips, and Yuuri shivered at the sound of it. 

“I love you too,” he breathed, reaching up one hand to cup Victor’s cheek, a long, lingering touch this time, just as precious as what they’d shared on the ice. Victor let out a soft sigh and nuzzled into Yuuri’s hand, kissing the center of his palm - or the fabric over it, anyway. The face he made upon finding fabric against his lips instead of skin made Yuuri laugh again, giddy. “Later,” he promised Victor, and received another passionate kiss in response, Victor’s hand coming up to pull Yuuri against him even more tightly.

There was a sharp scratching sound behind them, the rasp of skates on ice. “Oi, Victor! Did you see-” The sentence turned into a frustrated growl, and a moment later Yurio stomped past them, muttering something in Russian that included an awkward ‘katsudon’. 

Yuuri glanced up at Victor. “What did he say?”

Victor just grinned, releasing Yuuri from the embrace and taking a step back. “He’ll have to get used to it,” he said, simply. “Shall we?” He held out his right hand to Yuuri, his ring gleaming gold. 

“Always,” Yuuri said, and matched Victor’s steps to his.


End file.
